


Banana Slippers

by TheWild



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Slow Burn, revised this because i did not like the first attempt, timetravel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-16 22:49:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10581114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWild/pseuds/TheWild
Summary: Wearing your dishevelled tux and fluffy banana slippers, you clutched at your broken coffee mug while staring at the strangely calm literal gorilla in the room.Ah yes, time travel. You’d like it a lot more if it waited until you were sober.





	1. Prologue

The fresh night air was very welcoming. It was exactly 04:27AM, and after your friend had dropped you off from the party you had visited, you were enjoying a cigarette outside on your balcony.

You hadn’t kept on your entire outfit: you’d traded sleek black pumps for your comfy, fluffy banana-shaped slippers and had loosened your tie, vest and shirt so you could _breathe_.

Or so that the alcohol could air out.

It was a fancy dress party, and you figured a skirt would only be annoying after 6,5 glasses of wine, so fitted black pants and a suit it was. Nobody could really criticize you either: you looked damn fine. Or at least you did when you looked in the mirror after the third shot you’d taken.

You were happy your friend had volunteered to stay sober for the night- mainly because you’d been the designated driver for 3 parties in a row, and you missed the sweet burn of vodka down your throat.

I mean, it was your last year in college, you could go wild for once, right?

You gave yourself a reassuring nod that yes, yes, you could.

You were already brewing some coffee- there wouldn’t be much sleeping for at least the next hour, the warm buzz of the alcohol still whirling in your stomach and head- as you stared up at the sky, admiring the litany of stars.

Living in a small town had it’s advantages.

When your coffee machine stopped making the god-awful noises that it did, you moved to the kitchen- not very gracefully, because the liquor was taking it’s toll, but luckily the apartment was small enough to lend you surfaces to lean on all the way there.

You inhaled the smell of coffee when you leaned above the mug, enjoying the smell.

Ah, sweet caffeine.

Stumbling back outside, the need for fresh air stronger than the need for a decent foothold, you leaned on the railing as you downed the coffee calmly.

It was only when the flashy green light was right in front of your eyes that you thought _something_ might be off.

When your stomach turned and you had to close your eyes because the visions in front of them were too much for your upset, alcohol-poisoned brain, you only opened them when you landed on a cold, hard floor.

Instantly, the turning stomach took effect and you managed to get up fast enough so you didn’t dirty your expensive suit- emptying the contents on white tiles.

Rubbing some left-over, digested finger-food off of your mouth, vision still hazy and legs too unstable to make you get up, you look around the room and try to make out where you are.

Well.

Either your balcony turned into a psychopathic dentist’s office, or you were not where you were before.

There were noises as well- voices, no doubt, by the pitch you could distinguish- but you were too busy blinking and trying to make sense of it all. Which proved to be terribly difficult considering your intelligence had dropped a lot after recent events.

When something- someone, something- grabbed at your arm, you couldn’t stop the reflex of lunging your coffee mug in that general direction, effectively knocking someone out.

In quick succession, the wall in front of you collapsed to reveal a mass of black and blue fur- and white, there was white- and while you sat up, legs still struggling with the task at hand, your eyes focused on the gorilla in the room.

The...gorilla.

In the room.

A monkey.

A big monkey, really.

“I’m going to need-” you stopped for a loud belch, “I’m gonna need an aspirin,” you slurred at the beast, broken coffee mug dangling off of your index finger as you raised it, trying to look intelligent.

* * *

Winston didn’t expect anyone to be there exept for the scientists- he certainly didn’t expect what looked like a young woman wearing a tuxedo, sitting down next to a puddle of…

Oh heavens, did she do that?

Winston held back his disgust and looked again. She was holding a broken mug that had some kind of cute print on it, but the remains were scattered around the head of a very unfortunate Talon underling.

“I’m going to need-” she belches, once again disgusting him, “I’m gonna need an aspirin.”

Before he can say anything, she collapses.

Luckily _not_ in the remains of her dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ll never drink again,” you groan, head throbbing. You haven’t opened your eyes- you were glad you’d just landed in your bed safely before passing out. Yesterday was _wild_. Your dream as well.

You’d never dreamt of a gorilla before, and somehow you felt like once was enough.

“Ah, you’re awake!” a smooth, comforting male voices exclaims.

You know for a fact your alarm doesn’t sound like that and you’re also sure you didn’t bring anyone home- you might’ve been unable to walk but you’d never forgotten what happened while you were drunk before.

Cautiously, you open one eye- can’t handle too much light right now, and the sun might be out to get you- only to stare back at the gorilla that had been in your dreams.

“Wow, this is a realistic dream,” you croak, closing your eye again. Might be best to try and get up.

“I’m afraid it’s not,” the voice says now, and you open your one eye again.

There’s the gorilla, wearing glasses.

It takes a few seconds before you realize that an actual gorilla is towering over you, and disregarding the fact that he is checking some screens thoughtfully, you let out a yelp, crawling further into bed- only you weren’t actually crawling _into_ bed, you felt your grip loosen and you meet the cold hard floor for the second time in a really short period.

“Uh…” the voice mutters, “that’s an unusual reaction.”

Your headache has gotten worse now, pain banging in all directions and you can’t help but clutch it.

“I need an aspirin,” you wheeze. You might be overreacting; this is not the first time you’d been hungover from getting piss-drunk and it probably won’t be the last time either, but the sheer panic of seeing a gorilla paired with the headache was not good for your health.

“Are you alright?” 

The gorilla is now extending a hand, and you could swear his lips moved at the same time the voice spoke- but he couldn’t. He’s a gorilla. Carefully, you take it, and he pulls you up in one swift motion before handing you a glass of water and a box of pills.

This is one _smart_ gorilla.

The aspirin goes down smoothly but you still feel mighty uncomfortable with the gorilla- who must have some kind of speaker attached to it somewhere- watching you gulp down the glass of water hungrily. You set the glass down carefully before turning to him.

“So...a talking gorilla, huh?” you ask quietly. 

“Yes.”

He replies as if talking gorillas are normal- which they most certainly are _not_. You had no doubt that they were intelligent creatures, but that would be a lightning fast evolution.

“Where am I?” you continue, eyes narrowing slightly.

Maybe you could bolt when the gorilla left the room.

“Switzerland. You’re currently at the Overwatch base.”

Several questions launched itself- first and foremost, your apartment was not in Switzerland. Secondly, he seemed to assume you knew what “overt watch” meant, which you most certainly did not. And thirdly, that still didn’t explain how you got here.

“And how are you talking?” you point directly at his face- rude, but at this point your headache screamed **ILLOGICAL** over and over- as he sighs.

“You’re not very up to date with the world, are you?” he remarks, taking out a screen.

It’s a very fancy-schmancy tablet, you decide, that’s see-through and works amazingly fast. It says several things, but the most important one is, for your current situation, ‘genetically enhanced gorillas’.

And then you read the date.

January 22nd, _2050_.

That is...not the year.

“There’s a mistake here, it’s 2017,” you note, handing him the tablet back carefully. 

It’s his turn to look at you funny, apparently, by the way his eyes make some funny kind of move.

“I’m afraid it’s not.”

“Stop messing around.”

“I’m not.”

You looked around the room now, needing some kind of proof that it was 2017, damn it, but you could only think of one thing.

You take out your cellphone, unlocking it.

July 3rd, 2017.

You show him the device, smiling triumphantly, but he seems unperturbed. Or rather, he seems more fascinated by your cell phone itself.

“That’s a relic,” he remarks, taking it carefully as you get the tiniest bit offended.

“I know it’s not the newest toy but that’s just rude, man.”

The aspirin was kicking in- reducing the screaming pain to more of a buzz. It also, unfortunately, made everything seem more real.

“When’s your birthdate?” the gorilla asks carefully, handing you back your cellphone. You’ve got no service- so that meant no calling a cab and hightailing it away from the crazy gorilla.

“April 1993,” you remark comfortably, tucking the phone away as you sat back down on the bed.

“Stay here for a minute, will you?”

* * *

You were only staying because you hadn’t managed to open the door and you apparently were 3 stories up from the ground. Now: however tempting escape was, breaking both of your legs was not.

‘A minute’ was also taking really long- you’d already analyzed the room for clues that you might be at a psychopath’s house who dressed like a gorilla and gave people poisoned aspirins- but you’d found nothing. It was just a regular hospital room, albeit really modern. You were inspecting the closet- a good hiding place should there still be a psychopathic kidnapper somewhere- when the door slid open again, slightly jumping at the noise and hitting your head on one of the shelves.

“There goes the usefulness of the aspirin-” you mutter, rubbing the sore spot while turning.

Together with the gorilla- entering first, arms spread a little to make sure you’re not going to leap away- a man and a woman enter.

The surreal element of a gorilla paired with the two supermodels that just come in is just too much.

“Hello there,” the woman starts, blue eyes shining brightly as she runs a hand through her impeccable blond hair, “you must be the woman Winston rescued.”

You bite your bottom lip.

The gorilla was called Winston and was apparently the normal one here, unlike you.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” you stumble, not managing to form a sentence- what were you supposed to do? This was madness. And your head hurt.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be here, Winston, she’s still disoriented,” the man now remarks, rough voice that sounds  _ incredibly  _ good. He looks tired, but it doesn’t exactly make him look bad.

“Can we get you anything?”

She sounds so sweet. 

You carefully come over- keeping a respectable distance from the gorilla- before placing your hand on her shoulder. She’s slightly shorter than you, but you’re pretty sure she’s around your age.

“A bottle of vodka. If you don’t have that, anything that can knock me out will do fine,” you state, and the man lets out a curt chuckle until he realises you are dead serious.

“Show them your phone,” the gorilla asks- politely. You hand it over quite easily, and the shocked expressions at your screen are once again really _rude_.

“I swear, it’s not that old,” you remark.

* * *

They had left after the woman had performed a brief physical- checking your heart rate and blood pressure, and also checking for a concussion- and you were left staring out the window at what looked to be headquarters of some sort.

You were in the midst of determining how you’d get in contact with your family when a shadow appeared out of nowhere and flew through the open window, landing on the floor while sliding under the bed.

The only thing that had fallen off was a hat- and because of the sheer madness of this entire day, you didn’t feel like screaming anymore. It was a pretty fur-based felt, lined carefully and clearly in the shape of a cowboy hat.

As if on cue, there were three curt knocks on your door.

“It’s open,” you raise your voice slightly so the person will hear, “I think.”

It slides open and reveals another goddamn model- albeit a less conventional one. A tall, dark stranger with scars in his face and a worn beanie on his head.

“Sorry to disturb. Was just wondering if there happened to be a cowboy in here.”

You instinctively slid the hat further away from you.

“Uh, no,” you squint- talking slowly. He could take that however he wanted- you mainly just had no clue what to say.

“I see. Sorry for disturbing you then.”

And with that, he is gone.

The person under your bed takes a few moments before sticking his head out, stupid grin plastered on his face.

“Saved my life there, darlin’.”


	3. Chapter 3

You’d never imagined you’d meet a cowboy- you’re sure you’d have loved it in the past, but unfortunately, you are old enough to realize that people who come crashing through windows are not the type of people you should hang out with.

“Like the outfit. Goin’ to a party?” he winked, climbing out calmly and sitting himself down on the bed. You stare down at your dishevelled clothes- the smell of sweat and fabric softener mixed into the creases- before blinking up at him.

“No,” you dryly state, “are you going to explain what you’re doing here?”

“Livin’ the free life, doin’ my own thing.”

Confused- and tired, and still flabbergasted at everything- you sit down next to him as you take out the pack of cigarettes that was stashed in the inside pocket of your vest- while he takes out a cigar.

“And,” he continued, “maybe runnin’ from responsibilities.”

“Is that why the hunk was looking for you?” you ask, appreciating the gesture as he lights your cigarette.

“You think old man Reyes is a hunk?”

His eyebrows are raised in a funny manner when he lights his own smoke.

“You have eyes in there, don’t you? He’s a stud,” you remark. No kidding: everyone you’d met here looked amazing. Even the weird cowboy you were talking to now.

“Guess he has his good angles, but not really my type.”

“Yeah, best angle is seeing him retreat.”

At your comment- complementing the man’s butt- the cowboy bursts into laughter, a hearty, booming noise that makes you smile. Finally, a semi-normal looking dude that treated you like a regular person instead of an anomaly. No funny looks at your cellphone- no questions.

Just a cowboy hanging out with you in the base where a gorilla is in charge.

Yeah, just... _things_.

“You stuck in here, darlin’?”

You sighed out the smoke.

“Sorta.”

“You in need of a prince charmin’ to save you?” his grin was absolutely mesmerizing, childishly playful with a hint of flirting mixed in there.

“Think the gorilla is not going to like that.”

You waited for a reaction to that- never expecting to say that kind of sentence in your life, except maybe at a zoo- but nothing too special came.

“I’m sure Winston will understand me savin’ a damsel in distress, darlin’.”

“I distinctly remember prince charming wears princely outfits and not a hat and chaps and spurs.”

He gives another chuckle at your comment, leaning forward on his knees.

“Y’don’t look like  the type who likes tighty-whities and embroidery.”

You snort.

“Yeah.”

You could both hear the stomping of boots in the hall- and at lightning speed, the cigarette got doused on his chest plate, _why was he wearing a chest plate,_ and he jumped out of the window- but not before winking at you.

This time there was no knocking.

“Excuse me,” tall and handsome killer thighs said, “are you _sure_ there’s no one here?”

* * *

You managed to convince him that there had been no one there- that you’d been talking to yourself during your distress, and though he gave you a weirded out look, at least you weren’t in trouble.

Night had fallen in Switzerland, and you were somehow relieved the night sky was the same as ever. At least that hadn’t changed. Lights were sparkling all over the city as you stared out of your window in a melancholic mood, hoping that some kind of answer would randomly appear. Instead, a shadow did- covering you entirely. When you looked to your right, you saw the gori- Winston, you saw Winston- and instinctively jumped back a little.

“Sorry, man,” you mutter, “this takes some getting used to.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles, and you’re glad he doesn’t take it personally, “I wanted to show you around a bit.”

* * *

“So, tell me a bit about yourself,” Winston says calmly, sipping from his drink at the same time as you and you shrug.

“Not much special. Almost graduating, this year. Linguistics.”

He nods, interested, urging you to continue. You list off some hobbies; the main one, reading, and he seems to like that very much, offering to lend you some books. You know he consciously avoids asking about your family or friends: it is a touchy subject when you’ve travelled over 30 years into the future. But it’s nice he cares at least a little about you- especially after insulting your cell phone.

“So, uh,” you suddenly stop talking about yourself when you reach your room again- leaning against the wall, “what exactly is this place?”

“The Overwatch base in Switzerland.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you wave him off, “what is Overwatch?”

“An international task force.”

You sighed. Well. That didn’t explain a lot, but at least you already knew the purpose. You wondered what they’d need an international task force for, though.

“Ok. Well. Uh. I’m going to bed.”

* * *

The next morning, the doctor- Angela, you found out, who is very nice and has a German accent- gives you a new set of clothes. Nothing too fancy, just something less sweaty and stinky and reminiscent of your wild night out. When she offers to let you come with her, you immediately accept: anything to keep you out of those four walls that seemed to be closing in on you.

She travels around the base checking up on some military dudes, before you both arrive at a dome. Well.

It seemed like a stadium of sorts, only you were up in the VIP room to watch whatever was happening down there. Winston was also inside, monitoring several screens that blared with activity you could care less about.

Oh, and…

Down in the dome, a slim, cute girl…

A slim, cute girl was fighting a…

“A robot ninja?” you ask out loud, Winston moving forward so he can properly see what’s going on.

“These are our new recruits.”

“You’re not gonna make me do any fighting, are you? I’m a fragile little bird.”

Winston does not miss the fact that finally, your eyes are smiling when you make the remark, and he carefully pats your shoulder.

“Only if you want to.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Both fighters look up at the window and Winston gives them a little wave, but you can see them staring at you. You raise your glass of water- courtesy of Angela- and give them a nod: the ninja does not react but the girl waves at you.

_God_ , why was everyone so good-looking here?

“Hey, guys.”

“Yes?”

“Is there some kind of policy around here that you only hire good-looking people?”

He laughs, and you hear the doctor chuckle lightly as well.

“Why would you think that?”

“Everyone is incredibly handsome. I feel intimidated.”

“Don’t be,” Angela smiles handsomely, “though I’m sure Lena would appreciate the compliment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's so short! been a very busy week. i'll try to get you guys a longer chapter next :D


	4. Chapter 4

There was a kid staring right at you. Couldn’t be more than 12, wearing a light sundress and golden beads in her black hair. You were leaning in your doorway, preparing to discover a bit of the base on your own in the late hours of the night, and for a second you thought she was a ghost.

She was  _ not _ , even though you’d jumped back a bit startled, she looked perfectly healthy.

“You, uh,” you started, pointing to the hallway, “sneaking out as well?”

She gave a curt nod, and it made you smile.

You were on par with a kid when it came to what you were doing.

“Where are you going?” she whispered, the hint of an accent in her words, and you leaned on the wall a bit more, shrugging.

“Wherever my feet take me.”

Her small smile turned into a mischievous grin as she pounced- grabbing your hand and leading you through corridors and rooms. She was  _ fucking  _ fast, for a kid, and even though your legs were twice the size of hers, you could feel the burn in your lungs as you tried to keep up.

She finally stopped just short of a big set of windows, and you pulled the emergency brakes to make sure you didn’t crash into them- before marveling at the sight.

The view exposed the entirety of the city, bright apartment lights shining and what you could only identify as drones flying over it, stars glistening. 

“Wow.”

“I always come here to look at the stars,” she says, as you try to take in every little detail, “it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah, it is,” you grin. 

“Guess I’m goin’ to have to write up two pretty young ladies for sneakin’ out o’ their rooms today, huh?”

You didn’t turn at the sound of cowboy-man, but you did snort. 

“If you tell my mother, I will tell uncle Gabe that you are sneaking around as well.”

The sheer authority in the girl’s voice makes you chuckle and turn.

“Yeah, dude, uncle Gabe will have your ass,” you grin, not knowing in the slightest who uncle Gabe is- he doesn’t sound very threatening- or why this girl thinks she can take a guy that is even taller than you. 

Then again, she did drag a grown woman along. 

The cowboy’s closer now, leaning his hand not too far from your head as he stares down at the girl.

“Y’wouldn’t do that to y’r partner in crime, would’ya?” he smirks, and you can’t help but notice the proximity when you lean back against the glass and feel the warmth radiating off of mister handsome cowboy. 

As a reaction to his plea, the little girl just sticks out her tongue and grabs your hand again.

“She can be my new partner,” she proudly states, obviously talking about you, mimicking his accent when she says ‘partner’ with a slight slur. It’s equal parts hilarious and endearing.

“Hmm,” he hums, sizing you up in an exaggerated manner, “reckon I can take this young missy in a fight, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but nod at the girl: he probably could. You weren’t worth much when it came to fighting. She seems to think- eyebrows scrunched and the grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly- before raising a single finger up in the air.

“We can let her join!” she exclaims, eyes sparkling.

“Excuse me, join what?” you dryly ask- although you weren’t scared of shenanigans, you were a bit scared of what a certain gorilla might do if he found out you were breaking rules with a 12 year old and a cowboy. 

The cowboy turns back to you and leans in a bit closer, tipping his hat up slightly so you can see his face a little bit better- playful brown eyes staring into yours.

“We hold ourselves lil’ late night pow-wows, Fareeha and I,” he grins.

“Are you doing anything illegal?” you squint at him, not quite convinced of his alignment yet. And the way he says certain words with that lull in his voice either makes him very sexy or very suspicious.

“We were going to go dancing tonight!”

She tugs him along as he smiles back at you, motioning for you to come with.

“Horrible criminals,” he laughs, and you can’t help but bounce off to join them.

* * *

Apparently, training grounds littered with weights and benches and a fighting pit are the perfect place to learn how to dance, Fareeha has decided. She’s also decided that she’s going to be the lead and you are going to follow, even though you have to awkwardly bend your knees to be able to stand in the position correctly.

“Fareeha,” you wait for her nod to make sure you pronounce it correctly, “what kind of dance do you want to do?”

You have no knowledge of ballroom dancing and you are pretty convinced she doesn’t either. And there is no music playing, as well.

“Royal dancing,” she says confidently and you nod.

“Ok, uh huh,” you turn to the cowboy, “what is royal dancing?”

The way you whisper it urgently to him makes him grin but he shrugs.

“Promised her I’d do it, but since you so kindly took m’ place,” he trails off. 

She drags you along in some kind of twirl and you have to watch out to make sure you don’t topple over and crush her- you’re sure it looks nothing like dancing but more like wrestling. Or a cat-fight in slow motion.

The cowboy thinks it’s  _ hilarious _ , and his laughter is contagious, leading to the two of you chuckling at each other.

Until the  _ schhhhing  _ of the door startles all three of you and killer thighs is in the doorway, looking at the scene of a cowboy draped over a bench and a grown woman and a girl, locked in what is meant to be a dance but is more of a battle for dominance.

“McCree, Fareeha,” he greets, face stern as he turns to you, “mystery girl.”

“Commander,” the cowboy greets with a tip of his hat, and it breaks the resolve of killer thighs, who cracks a grin.

“Amari would have your head if she knows you’re out late with Fareeha,” he says, casually walking over.

“But uncle Gabe,”- you take back what you said about uncle Gabe, he does seem kind of formidable- “we are dancing!”

“Are you?” he turns to you now, _ uncle Gabe _ , and you nod.

“Yeah, dancing,” you confirm quietly.

“And why are you dancing at 12 in the evening?” he asks Fareeha, who turns to stand by your side , protectively holding your hand.

“Because she looked kind of sad.”

You want to tell her you don’t need a kid cheering you up, but you have to admit, these people were mighty good at distracting you from the fact that you were not where you were meant to be.

“I see.”

The pause puts all three of you on edge until the grin of killer thighs turns toothy and wide.

“Show me what you’ve learned, then.”

* * *

When you wake up the next morning, it’s with a smile on your face remembering the events of the night before. It was nice not to be looked at as some relic, but just a regular old 20-something having fun.

“Are you up?” Winston’s voice suddenly booms from behind the door, knocking curtly, “we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me 5,” you shout back, jumping out of bed and trying to calm down your hair as you pull your top back in place- sleeping in the clothes you were given might not have been the most hygienic idea ever, but you didn’t have any pajamas.

You step out the door barefoot- Angela had forgotten to give you shoes, you noticed, and your slippers were getting kind of smelly- greeting the gorilla in the doorway with a kind smile.

“Lead the way, big man…” you say, before realizing what you’ve said, “...gorilla. Big gorilla.”

He laughs heartily and starts walking, stopping short in front of a door that has the label ‘conference room’ and you are worried there might be a large group of people wanting to see the anomaly that is an adult woman, but when you enter there’s only Angela, the blond man from before, killer thighs, a stern-looking military woman and the girl that was fighting the robot ninja.

You greet them all and decide to introduce yourself, not missing the grin uncle Gabe has plastered on his face, leaning back in his chair.

“Take a seat,” Winston ushers, and you do. Comfortably next to Angela, the only person you know, considering Winston was still rummaging through some documents.

“So,” he starts after a curt cough, “as you all know, I was recently on a mission at a Talon base in Austria. There wasn’t much there outside of scientists, guns and our good friend here.”

You remembered that. You were piss-drunk. Was he going to mention that?

“Now, the reason why we are here, is because it’s important for both her and us to figure out how she got there, what she was doing there and how we can get her back to her time.”

“You are trying to tell us she travelled through time?” the stern woman says, same accent in her voice that Fareeha had, you note. She gives you a funny look.

“I did, ma’am,” you say calmly, looking her straight in the eye.

“Do you have proof of that?”

“My cellphone was in my suit pocket,” you shrug. It’s not like you can start listing funny memes to prove your point. 

“It was, we’ve seen it, Ana,” Angela notes, “it was a relic.”

You mumble ‘rude’ under your breath- but in this case, it was the only way to prove you were not somehow trying to fool them, so you tried to be quiet.

“Before we start firing questions, let’s first introduce ourselves,” Winston smiles, trying to calm the atmosphere, “you’ve already met me and Angela. That’s Strike Commander Jack Morrison,” he points to the blonde man, and he does look like the type to sport such a title, “Second-in-command Ana Amari,” ah yes, a name you’d remember for the sheer fact that she seemed like someone you’d want to avoid, “Commander Gabriel Reyes and our new trainee, Lena Oxton. She has some...experience with time travel.”

Lena seemed by far the most friendly, besides Angela and Winston, even though you’d already seen ‘uncle Gabe’ a bit more relaxed and less...military. You give a slight wave to all of them.

“This is something that has to be kept a secret. If Talon was trying it, they might try it again,” Jack mutters, turned to Ana and Gabriel. 

“If they’re going to do it again, it might be best to not keep it a secret,” Reyes notes, crossing his arms for full ‘chill-mode’.

“If I may?” Lena starts- and she has the cutest English accent you’ve ever heard- “I think it’s for the best we find a solution quickly. The missus doesn’t seem like she has any idea herself, do you, love?”

“She has a point,” you say while you point to her, giving Lena a smile. She smiles right back.

“This is, at the moment, beyond our capacity, though,” Angela notes, “we have hardly figured out your condition, let alone time travel instigated by an outside force.”

“Before you guys continue,” you interject carefully, all eyes focused on you, “what exactly is Talon again?”

The hilarious looks you got would’ve made you start laughing, if it weren’t for the fact that they were doing it out of sheer disbelief that you didn’t know.

“Pretty sure it didn’t exist in 2017,” you continued, shrugging.

“A terrorist organization.”

You nod.

“I see. Cool.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was another quiet night after you found out a terrorist organization had summoned you- much like an actual demon, something  _ otherworldly and unbelonging here-  _ and sleep would not come. You’d tried drinking calming tea, you’d tried going for a run to get tired, you’d tried to use one of those fancy see-through screens to get some music playing…

You couldn’t figure out the screen and you figured it mainly had documents on it, anyway, so that plan was a fluke from the start.

It wasn’t only that, though. Looming worries about your home- were you missing, how did time pass there compared to here, how were you going to get back?- kept swivelling through your head no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that these people had a gorilla scientist. Time travel couldn’t be too big a step ahead of that.

In the middle of a thought process where you were thinking if you could meet yourself here and ruin the flow of time, you heard the familiar tapping of cowboy boots on the tile floor- was it your floor? You didn’t want to call it your room- and you sat up, covering your bra with a blanket.

It was comfortably warm in the base and thus sleeping with anything more than basic underwear had become a hassle.

“Howdy,” he grins at you, not even bothering to seem worried about disturbing your potential sleep, sitting himself down on the bed.

“Running from uncle Gabe again?” you ask with an eyebrow raised- playfully.

“Nah. Figured you could use some company.”

You don’t know if he’s activated his flirting game or if he genuinely cares- it doesn’t really matter at this point, anyway, because at least he takes the time to drop by.

“I’d like that if you hand me my shirt, cowboy,” you muse, nodding your head towards the disheveled garment acting as a rug on the floor. He looks down, back up, down again and turns with a smirk on his face.

“Should I?” he quips, not moving from his spot- even crossing his arms.

“Look, dude, what was your name again?” you think out loud, remembering Reyes saying it, but there had been so many names in one day, “McDee, was it? Be a respectable gentleman and pick that shit up.”

He dramatically slams his hand on the chest plate where his heart should be, mockingly placing a scowl on his face.

“It’s McCree. The name’s McCree. I don’t know if I feel like picking that there up after you’ve hurt me like this, missy,” his tone is jovial, but he’s damn good at playing a victim, draping himself closer and clutching at the blanket.

“I’ll do it for a name,” he winks. You give a sigh- you’re not really exasperated, but you figure if he can act dramatic, you can as well- and lean forward a bit, body still covered up to your neck with blanket as you say your name.

As if on cue, he leans down, grabs the shirt and throws it over to you- even politely turning while you put it on.

“The little girl’s not sneaking out today?” you ask, hands running through your hair in an effort to calm it down after the shirt covered it- useless, considering your hands are not combs- and he shakes his head. 

“Captain Amari found out she’s been sneakin’ out.”

“Ouch.”

Silence.

You don’t really know what he’d like to talk about. You reckon he also doesn’t really know what interests you. Cigarettes are lit and he’s tapping his foot to the rhythm of the awkward silence spanning between the both of you.

“So, you work here?” you finally croak- sounding slightly hoarse because you rush the sentence out as fast as you can. 

He turns and looks as if he’s confused by that statement.

“You don’t?” he questions, and you figure your expression says enough as he spends some time thinking.

“Give me a sec, I’ll be back, darlin’.”

It’s not exactly a second, it’s 12 minutes and 56 seconds- you were bored out of your mind and watching the clock tick was the only thing that distracted you from thoughts you didn’t want to have- but he bursts back in carrying a deck of cards and a bottle of alcohol.

You reach for the latter and inspect it calmly before giving a nod.

“Now what’s a handsome lil’ lady doin’ here if she doesn’t work here?” he asks while he shuffles the cards and starts distributing them between the two of you before he fills up two shot glasses.

You give a sigh and try to think how you’re going to explain that one.

“I was the very unfortunate test subject of time travel.”

He doesn’t even look up from his hand while you play yours- though you do hear the soft whistle that escapes his lips.

“Sounds like a problem, alright,” he notes as he wins. You don’t really react until he hands you the glass.

“Drink up.”

“Getting drunk got me here, I’d rather back off the liquor guzzling for a while,” you dryly note as you push his hand back a little- his fingers are rough and warm and a little hairy.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

It’s said so softly you had to take a few moments to realize he’d even said it- but it’s genuine and sweet like when Winston asked you about yourself.

“Not yet,” you smile, “but I’ll be sure to give you a call when I do.”

You play another set and this time it’s his loss- he downs the glass and then grabs the bottle and downs another few sips for good measure.

“So, are you a recruit here?” you ask- tentatively because it seems absolute poppycock that a man dressed like a cowboy would be working here, but you did see a robot ninja.

And a gorilla.

And Lena- they called her Tracer- she wore crocks. 

“That I am. Best damn soldier in the entire base,” he grins and winks- it’s hilarious that he thinks that would have any effect on you, but you don’t know any other soldiers around here.

“Cool. Better than the robot ninja?” your voice is levelheaded and sarcastic, but you  _ are  _ smiling.

“Robot- oh, Shimada,” he thinks for a second before pulling another mock-hurt look, “of course I am!”

“Don’t believe you,” you chuckle and lose the game, finally downing the glass he’d poured for you- it burns but the warm buzz immediately after makes you glow.

“I can show you?” he winks- god, this man winks a lot- as he has his hands on a pistol-

Whoa, wait.

“You’re carrying that thing around at night?” you point at the pistol and look him straight in the eye with a disappointed-mother look.

“ ‘F course I am, what else am I going to do with it? Stuff it in my ass?”

His retort is hilarious but you refrain from laughing.

“Darlin’, everyone carries weapons here. It’s not weird. Ya wanna see me shoot it or not?”

You grab the bottle this time, at least a full whiskey glass of liquor disappearing down your mouth before you put it down and nod.

“Sure. Sure, go ahead.”

“Not here, pumpkin, this is your room.”

“Well, what do I know about gun protocol around here?” you shoot back with a grin as you stand up- and spread your arms because the room is turning. Standing up fast was not a good idea.

McCree takes the bottle and you gather the deck of cards and when he struts out of your room, you follow in tow- he takes big steps but his walk is exactly like an actual cowboy. You have to give it to him, the dedication to this persona was amazing.

You don’t know how long you’re walking in utter silence while you play with the deck but you enter the gym again and then go through another set of doors to enter a shooting range. He sets down the bottle with an excessive amount of je-ne-sais-quoi and motions for you to follow.

You throw the deck of cards and at least half of it flies over the edge of the table and crashes into the ground. 

“Show me your moves, cowboy,” you let out a yawn right after- it was pretty late, after all- “I’m waiting.”

He tips his hat and fires six shots with clean precision- they all hit the center of the targets. It was pretty impressive, so you give him a clap of your hands and he mockingly bows.

“Try it,” he urges as he pushes the pistol in your hand.

“I’m not firing any guns,” you smirk, “unless you  _ make  _ me.”

McCree wasn’t used to someone so confidently flirting back at him but he’ll take the challenge any time- if you wanted to play a game of chicken you were going to have to sit through the consequences.


	6. Author's note

Hello everyone!

First off, don't be scared- please read this through completely before drawing conclusions from the '6/6' chapters thing.

I've needed to divide my time up properly between stories and every time before I continue writing a certain story, I re-read the previous chapters (or in some cases, the entire thing) just to make sure I get the feel of the story again.

With Banana Slippers, I don't like what I'm reading.

Now, don't get me wrong- all of my stories can use a lot of work, but with this one in particular I'm just not happy of the set-up I wrote out even though I like the basics.

So I will be rewriting it. Completely. The first few chapters might not change a whole lot, but I'll try to make them better. Until I have, I'll be keeping this story posted, but once I've got the new one done under a new title (probably), I'll let you guys know here and then delete this once I've got the feeling everyone knows.

That said, I know I'm slow updating. Adult life is going 110 km/hours (I don't know how many miles an hour that is, but alas) and I've got the need to spread my time carefully between job, marrying friends and hobbies. Nonetheless, I have decided for myself I'll finish every running story, so I won't desert this. I'll just give it an update so I can continue it properly.

Thank you for the amazing support and kind words- it means so much to me and I'm glad I can do something creative that other people enjoy.

Daisy out!

If you have questions, don't hesitate to comment here :) 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, I posted this before but I really disliked the entire plot-idea I had and basically how I wrote the thing, so I revised everything and here it is :D Again. Enjoy!


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